


Girl Talk

by HIGHtide



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Crossdressing, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Humiliation, Incest, M/M, Sexual Tension, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-20
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HIGHtide/pseuds/HIGHtide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave's accustomed to Bro's various perversions. They usually don't bother him - at least until a playful dare starts getting more than a little weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tagging this pre-emptively with what'll be in it later.

It begins with a pair of black stockings. 

You are almost fourteen and your big brother is watching something obnoxious on TV, loud enough that it drags you from your room, clad in boxers and a loose t-shirt. It's one in the afternoon, but your bro never makes you go to school or anything, so you pretty much have no schedule.

As you step barefoot and lazy into the living room, your eyes fall on the TV. It's some kind of anime, girls in pigtails and short skirts flouncing around and innocently groping each other, the subtitles indicating that they must be comparing cup sizes and underwear colors.

What the fuck. 

You know Bro watches this shit for the ironies, but it sure gets on your nerves sometimes. Like, he's practically blasting it at full volume. You always wonder how much the neighbors can hear. 

As you head further into the living room, Bro doesn't seem to notice you, but you glance at him out of habit. That's when you see it. Bro's got these tight jeans on as per usual, and your eyes are instantly drawn to a very, very obvious bulge in the crotch area. 

Jesus. The dude's gotta be at least fifteen years older than you and he's still got the libido of a teenager. You avert your gaze for a second before glancing back out of some morbid curiosity. That outline of his junk looks so much bigger than yours, and you're starting to mentally compare dick sizes before you remind yourself that he's your brother. The thought makes you tear your eyes away. 

"Damn, bro, save some cartoon poon for the rest of us," you state calmly as you head for the kitchen. Bro's still staring at the TV as you dodge a ninja star that pops from a drawer. Daily life in the Strider household. "Zettai Ryouiki," he replies.

Are you supposed to know what that means? "Try that again without the moonspeak," you shoot back. You're getting better at being witty. Bro glances over his shoulder as you start placing some bread slices in the toaster. "It means Absolute Territory, and it's hells of huge in Japan. Those people got their kinky shit figured out." 

You raise an eyebrow at him. Bro's always been shameless with sharing his various fetishes, so this isn't really that strange to you. "Cool to know," you reply, sounding disinterested. Bro's silent for some seconds before he speaks up again. "Man, this chick totally looks like you." That makes you glance up at the TV. There's a girl on the screen with short, short blond hair and brown eyes bouncing around, accompanied by some truly gratuitous panty shots. 

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, holy shit, just take a screencap and upload it to my Facebook 'cause nobody could possibly distinguish between me and this generic anime broad." You step out into the living room and take a seat on the opposite end of the futon from where Bro's sitting. 

"'Cept you got some gangly-ass boy legs, so you couldn't pull off grade-A Zettai at-fucking-all." Bro punctuates the sentence with a helpless sort of shrug. 

You really, really should not be offended at the implication that you don't have girly legs, but something about the way Bro says it makes you inwardly bristle. Like it's a challenge that you definitely can't win. Your brow furrows. "Kinda glad for that, but I'm pretty sure I could rock anything and make it look good."

Bro stares at you dead-on. "Think so, smartass? Wanna try?" 

That makes you fall silent. Try what? You simply stare back at Bro, trying to think of a clever retort. Before you can do that he stands up - yeah, still kind of hard and apparently not giving a shit. You force yourself to look up at his face instead of that unapologetically huge package. 

"You're on, kid," Bro says, and then he's walking to the side of the room and plopping down in front of his computer. You're not sure what, exactly, you just agreed to, but you try to act like you're not interested. Whatever the hell he's up to, you've no doubt you can handle it. 

When you finish your toast, Bro's still busy typing away on his computer. He doesn't say anything to you so you spare a glance at his screen - some girly layout in pink and white with stripes, that's the kind of site he's on - before you head back to your room. You start getting dressed. It's hot outside and hotter in the apartment. Your plan is to go out, skate for a bit, come home and dick around on the Internet for the rest of the night and forget this conversation with Bro ever happened.

The day passes. The next morning, you wake up with little memory about yesterday. Aside from some sick grinds you pulled at the skate park, you haven't really had the whole "you totally couldn't rock a pair of thigh-highs" thing on your mind. 

Bro, apparently, has. 

Once you sit up and your eyes adjust to being awake, you notice two long, dark strips of fabric hanging from your door frame. Oh, fuck.

Annoyance starts to flood your body the way he's placed those stockings up there, like he's not expecting you to actually put them on or anything. It's definitely displayed like a dare and it's definitely on purpose. You get out of bed, groggily walking to the door and yanking both stockings down. The material is lighter than you'd imagine, soft, barely weighing a thing. You've only got a pair of plaid boxers on, so you sit back down on the edge of your bed and give yourself a generous pause.

You have no idea how they work so the first attempt is you jamming your foot into one leg. It stretches that fine material and won't slide on easily, so you pause. Don't really want to poke a hole anywhere or Bro will totally think you did that shit to try to worm your way out of the dare. You take your foot back out and try the more logical approach of rolling the long piece of fabric up until you can slip your toes right into the end, then you start to carefully pull it up your leg. It feels almost sleek, lightly cool at first - considering they're just glorified socks, they seem especially well-made.

As you do the same motions with the other one, pulling the thin, thin material up to about the middle of your thigh, you start thinking about what Bro was saying yesterday. Something like "absolute territory". You wonder what his reaction will be when you come out like this, and you can only hope you surprise him.

Whatever. Time to show your bro up. You're going to be the victor here. 

You walk out into the hallway, into the living room. Crossing your arms over your bare chest, you wait for Bro to notice. 

He's sprawled out half-clothed like you on the futon, playing some shit-stupid Tony Hawk game on the 360. It takes him just a second to turn his head and and look your way. There's silence for a second, and his little skater dude crashes into a pole. 

"Looks like I was right," he finally comments, turning back to the game. "You ain't got that Zettai swag." 

... And that just pisses you off. The way he sounds so dismissive and unimpressed. Which, you know, is a pretty common reaction from Bro, but you were hoping for at least a thumbs-up or some kind of kudos for putting these stupid things on.

Indignant, you stand your ground. "Bullshit, I look great. Prop me up in one of those human trafficking auctions and I'm instantly sold for six million to some obese Russian druglord." 

You can see Bro raising an eyebrow, but still won't turn your way. "Yeah? How 'bout we poll the masses?" 

You blink. "What do you mean?" Bro gets off the futon fast and fluid like a cat, tossing the controller onto the mattress. "4chan. Ain't no better route for quick and brutal honesty. Let's take some pictures, kid." 

Okay, that makes you a little uneasy. "Pictures of what, the stockings... ?" Bro's nodding and he's already heading for your room. "Hold up," you interject, darting after him. "I don't wanna like, dole out nudes to a buncha basement-dwellers." Bro's flipping out his phone and swiveling your computer chair around, taking a seat in it like he owns the place. "Nah, just your legs an' how little justice you're doin' those top notch thigh-highs," he replies. Just some casual insult. You frown but find yourself standing still near the door, waiting for him to get a picture. "Where the hell did you get these, anyway?" 

"Get on the bed," Bro quickly instructs before he answers your question. You pause for a second before obeying, heading over to your bed and sitting on the edge. "Got 'em express delivered from a specialty store online, that's where." 

"Oh," you reply, sounding bored. This is one of the weirdest games you two have played yet. Bro's tapping through his phone to get to the camera option, and he points the lens your direction after activating it. There's some beats of silence. Then, "Don't sit like that." Bro's speaking up again, suddenly, a commanding edge to his voice. "Pull your legs up near your ass but not under it."

You give him a look. Your brother's generally so laid-back, hearing him talk like this is kind of different. "Guess you'd know how to camwhore like a pro," you mumble, but you're doing as he says, sliding your knees up onto the mattress and tucking them into a pose. Bro seems to examine the image he's got in the view, tilting his head to one side.

"Theeerrre we go," he drawls, voice soft, sounding like a parent coaxing their child or a professional photographer shooting a model. Something about his tone makes you slightly self-conscious, and you fidget a little out of habit, shifting your small body around on the sheet.

"Wait, yank your boxers up a lil'. Not a good look here." God, Bro just has to make this as awkward as possible, doesn't he? You roll your eyes before reluctantly slipping your fingers into the ends of your boxers, tugging them up until they more resemble briefs. It definitely shows off the thigh-highs in question, just a few inches of your pale white skin in between them and your underwear.

Bro snaps a picture, finally satisfied, and he diddles around on his phone again before turning to your computer. You're getting off the bed as Bro downloads the picture of you - he was merciful enough to keep your face out of it - and types up the URL for the infamous image board. 

Bro jumps on /b/. You can't help feeling a little anxious as he starts a new thread. "Nobody's even gonna see it on here, dude," you complain, placing your hand on your desk. Your brother ignores you, typing up a simple message in the text box: rate my gfs thigh highs.

And then he's posting it. And then he's refreshing the page. And then it's taking only seconds for the the replies to start piling in.

You're trying really hard not to seem interested, but after glancing toward the screen and noting that suddenly a scrollbar is necessary, you lean forward to take a look. Bro's scrolling through the replies pretty quick, skimming, but you catch a few of the message contents.

\- 8/10 get some better panties  
\- cool jailbait bro  
\- It's a trap.  
\- got more OP??  
\- man i wish i could get my gf to wear stuff like this :\  
\- Tell her to get on cam  
\- oh WOW............. i have that same snoop dogg poster.

All right, you're done. You can feel your face starting to heat up at the comments - a few trolls but it's mainly compliments, and as Bro taps F5 the comments only get more lewd. He looks amused.

"-- See? I got like half that thread duped. _Over_ half," you say, sounding cocky. You've totally won. Bro keeps reading in silence before shaking his head, standing up. "'S more like a mixed bag, but hey, I'll concede defeat for now, lil' homie." 

It's good enough for you. Bro's almost always the final one-upper, but it looks like you got his goat this time.

Once Bro's out of your room you hastily strip the stockings off and simply toss them into a corner.

The rest of the day doesn't deviate much from the normal routine. You and Bro just sort of drift off into your own things, and later that night, Bro tells you he's heading out for some DJing gig. You give him a little nod from your computer, slipping your headphones back on, and that's about it.

As the night goes on and Bro's left you alone, you remember how great it is, having the apartment to yourself. You can play your music as loud as you want without Bro bitching, you can walk around in skimpier undergarments without feeling self-conscious around him, you can play on his Xbox without suffering a barrage of noogies. And, maybe best of all, you can watch some legitimately-produced smut. 

Bro has all these subscriptions to, like, fifty porn channels on TV. You know it has to be for irony because he'd be the first to tell you that you can watch it on the Internet for free (and he'd give you some suggestions while you're at it). But at your age you've got sex on the brain for at least fifty percent of your waking hours, so of course, in your boredom and freedom, you decide to check out what these channels have to offer. Maybe porn's better if you pay for it.

You head out to the living room in a plain pair of briefs and flop onto the couch. Even with the bare minimum of clothing on and a multitude of fans going, you're still hot. You brush some hair off your forehead as you turn on the TV and flip to channels in the triple digits, lazily lying back against the couch. 

Once you hit the porn you have to scope it out. Fifty channels full of tits and dicks and you're gonna be picky. You flip through the selection at leisure, nothing really catching your discerning eye except for a few seconds at most. But quite suddenly, one particular scene makes you stop. 

It's a girl on her hands and knees, ass toward the camera as she's sucking one guy's cock, another guy planted behind her and jerking himself off in anticipation. What really gets you, though, is the fact that she's wearing these lacy black nylons. 

They make you think about your stockings. 

You don't move at first, just sitting there, watching some roided-up dude grabbing this girl's hair, manuevering her mouth around on his fat dick, listening to the way she makes all these noises of pleasure and sucks on him. It's making you hard, but you can't get your mind off those stockings, your eyes trailing over her body and thinking about the way yours look in comparison. 

There's long seconds of admiration of the view on-screen before you stand. You start walking back to your room.

Looking for the stockings, you feel almost embarrassed. Embarrassed of where your own mind went as you watched the way the girl was taking that cock in her mouth, the camera panning expertly over her skirt, her ass, the sleek material of her nylons. Dude must've gone to film school and graduated with honors to be able to make you think about yourself in her position like you just did. You locate the stockings and start slowly pulling them on, feeling almost shy as you head back out to the living room. 

Taking a seat, your fingers trail down over the half-hard bump in your briefs. You rub yourself through the fabric gently, just watching the porn at first. It's once the scene changes its point of view that you close your eyes and let your mind wander.

It's gay, but you're thinking about what it'd be like to suck a cock. How it would feel to have someone grabbing you hair like that, tugging your face toward their hard dick. Really gay, but this is your fantasy and you can think about whatever you want. You're thinking about how it would feel if another guy came in.

"Look at this sissy bitch," one of them might say, and you imagine one of them smacking your ass as you tug your dick, now fully-hard. "Little homo wants his ass turned out, doesn't he?" 

Shifting positions, you roll belly-down, squirming against the couch cushions. You lift your hips and slip your hand back down toward yourself, jerking off your hard cock a few times. You start pretending you've got a dick pressed against your ass. You rock your hips back against it gently, grinding your dick against the soft cushion below. It doesn't feel too great and you grab for one of Bro's pillows instead, straddling it between your thighs and trying to fuck it. The pillows smell like your brother, and you think about him briefly, guiltily - then try to will the thought away.

You're already getting close to orgasm as a third guy comes into the fantasy - Christ, it's turning into a gangbang. You can feel your face and upper chest getting hot, panting as you speed up your pace and you're so absorbed in it that you almost don't hear the sound of keys sliding into the front door.

Wait.

Oh, shit. 

In a sudden panic you sit up, simultaneously changing the channel and grabbing your discarded briefs, yanking them back on with a speed you're pretty sure you've never attained in a strife. Shit shit shit shit shit. Bro's been gone like five goddamn fucking hours and he has to come home right now. Awesome.

What Bro'll see as he comes in is you, knees drawn up to hide your erection, hair mussed and a sheen of sweat over your face and neck. You try to look relaxed.

But you can feel the shift in the air, the pause as his eyes fall on you. "Well, damn, kiddo," he starts, and you can tell he's a little tipsy. "If you like playin' dress up that much then maybe I should take your ass shoppin'." Oh. Right. You forgot to take off the stockings and they're still pulled high and tight over your legs.

You shoot Bro your best "give me a fucking break" look. He's grinning widely and you want to deck him as he saunters over to the couch, one gloved hand sliding roughly against your scalp, ruffling your hair in a way he knows annoys you. The smell of vodka and club sweat's wafting down all over your head. You're not really down with the idea of Bro touching you very much while you're still sporting a hard-on, so you stand up, making sure to keep your back turned toward him. 

But like the asshole he is, Bro already knows.

"Nice chub, princess," he snorts, and you feel little flames rise to your cheeks. "Yeah, don't wanna turn around and gouge your eye out or anythin'. I'm gonna crash." You're out of the living room in seconds, leaving your amused and inebriated brother to his futon.

Your balls are aching as you shut your computer down, as you settle into bed. You're too embarrassed by what just happened to resume your kinky little fantasy, so you tug the stockings down and toss them away from you once more. You get yourself off quickly, your orgasm weak but relieving as you think about nothing in particular.

Whatever. Fuck Bro and fuck his "games". 

With your boner taken care of you eventually drift off, hoping to hell that tomorrow Bro will have forgotten what he'd seen the night before.


	2. Chapter 2

You wake up to a boner. 

This is a fairly common occurence, but what separates this from plain old morning wood is the fact that you remember your dreams, and you know exactly what caused it. In some sick Freudian display, as much as you tried to keep your mind off Bro, he was touching you all over the place when you went to sleep. That curling hand on your scalp had slid downward in your dreams, over the nape of your neck and down your back before slipping around to the front of your stomach. Lower, until he was jerking you off rough and slow and in this dream, you were some kinda slave to his touch. His hand was bigger and better-practiced than yours, and every stroke, every beat of pressure was almost divine.

Awake, you're grossed out. Not because Bro's gross or anything - nah, he's the kind of guy with a face that turns heads and his body is everything you want to look like when you grow up - just, he's your _bro_. You shouldn't be having dreams like that, much less enjoying them at all. Looking down at the tent in your briefs you feel slightly guilty as you reach a hand down. You jerk yourself off to another quick orgasm, your dick so hard it only takes seconds.

Once you're done you lie still for some minutes, waking up. There's a churning in your stomach as you look down at yourself, stewing in guilt and more disgust at your own dream. But it seems to pass quickly, pieces floating out of your memory much like the dream itself. Rolling out of bed, you're suddenly flexible and limber, Bro's ninja training having done its job well. You grab some boxers to switch into, peeling off the briefs and stuffing them into the laundry bag in your closet as you walk by. It's all like one smooth motion.

There's TV-noise floating from the living room, making you hesitate before you open your bedroom door. you're a little anxious to see Bro again, but you've also gotta piss like a racehorse so you can't hide out in your room all day. You lightly sigh before heading out into the hallway. 

You don't acknowledge Bro as you stalk into the bathroom, but he spots you instantly. "Had some fun last night, huh?" he calls to you, causing you to stop and backtrack a few steps, poking your head around the corner to eye him. "What?" 

Bro raises the remote. "Channel history." 

With a frown, you keep walking to the bathroom, calling back to him as you tug yourself out over the toilet. "You're the one with the subscriptions, dickhole." 

Bro doesn't even say anything to defend himself. He seriously doesn't give a shit, you think. It's almost admirable how unashamed he is.

As you approach, Bro gives you that infuriatingly smug look again, hands behind his head. For just a second, you can't help letting your eyes trail over his muscles, built lean and natural: entirely from playing around with swords and kicking your ass. You're just trying to compare, that's all. 

"What, you wanna watch some more?" he asks plainly, undaunted by your face. The idea of watching porn with him - well, it's crossed your mind a few times, sure. That's not really gay or weird or anything. You've read about it online. But Bro is clearly just being a douchebag here and trying to taunt you. 

"That shit was tame as hell, my cock fell asleep." You're unmoved. Bro shrugs at your response. "Seemed pretty boned up to me." Deflected. Just like that. Just like one of your parries on the roof. 

"Was that your first real glimpse of a set of titties or what, kid?" And another little stab for good measure.

All you can do is roll your eyes and head toward the fridge, seeking some juice. Bro's won a little battle again. Silence settles between the both of you for some minutes before he's standing up, stretching hard enough to pop some joints. "I'ma head out for awhile. Got more errands to run than a hooker moonlightin' as a crack dealer." 

You throw Bro a nod from the kitchen. You're leaning elbows against the counter, casually sipping your apple juice with your hips perked out without even realizing how provocatively you must be standing until you notice Bro's just staring at you. More specifically, you can trace exactly where his eyes are looking on your body. First it's the slight curve of your spine and then it's your ass. 

A flush of embarrassment doesn't reach your face, but you hurriedly straighten up, gulping down some more juice. "Sure," you respond, pointedly keeping your gaze on the TV screen. The motion snaps your brother's eyes back to yours and he seems out of quips just as quickly, running a hand through his hair before he steps out of the room. You feel antsy watching him leave, though your initial awkwardness is soon replaced by a strange thrill.

The fact that you don't really socialize outside a computer screen must be getting to you. You must be sexually frustrated and jumping at anything that isn't some freaky-ass puppet. As you tug the legs of your boxers downward to cover yourself a bit more, you wonder if maybe Bro feels the same. Like, he hasn't brought anyone back to the apartment in awhile. Your brother isn't a slut or anything, but on those weeks he went out a lot he'd usually come back with a catch. Male or female, it didn't matter. You'd be listening to them fucking all night because Bro always seemed to play rough. He knew how to make someone feel real good. 

Usually you'd get aroused and always you'd grab for your iPod. You'd shove your earbuds in and run some Jurassic 5 or Hot Chip or some obscure hipster band even Pitchfork hadn't heard of. You'd drown them out and try to forget the fact that the noise was turning you on. It's something shameful and even worse when you get the urge to get up and watch them. You've always been curious about what your brother would look like in the throes of sex, but the desire makes you feel filthy.

You slurp the thoughts away and toss the now-empty juice box into the trash, then head back to your room.

Ten minutes of you chilling on the computer and Bro's calling out a "Later," from the front door. He leaves and you've got the house to yourself again, but like hell you're repeating any of the events from the night before. You'll just hazard playing your music out the speakers as loud as you want. That's sufficient rebellion for you.

It's maybe driving you a little nuts, these random pangs of lust for your own sibling - especially since you can't talk about it with anyone. One moment you hate him, can't stand him and want to strangle him and the next you're imagining how his dick might look when it's hard.

Must just be puberty.

After going in Internet circles for another hour or so, you're starting to get bored. There's only so much blog checkup you can do, so many comments you can review before you start getting restless. As if on some weird cue, you hear the familiar sound of your brother's keys sliding into the door. 

You sit up and listen. He sounds like he's carrying something - probably food, some kind of to-go garbage since neither of you cook. Maybe you can bug him to watch a movie. The two of you always wreck whatever you watch with biting commentary that turns into a game of wits. That'd be fun. And normal. 

You drag yourself from the computer chair to greet him in the living room. And instantly, the idea of watching a movie shoots itself out a window. 

In one hand, Bro's got two bags of McDonalds. In the other, he holds an outfit on a pink plastic hanger. 

Not just some outfit. A goddamn schoolgirl outfit. White blouse and a black skirt, topped off with a black satin ribbon around the collar and a small gray jacket to tie it all together.

There isn't much that can shock you speechless these days. But as you stare at Bro, as you glance from outfit to the smug little smirk on his face, you can think of utterly fuck all to say.

Bro seems to know this. He goes first. "You like, kid? Thought I'd keep it simple just in case you were kinda, y'know, thinkin' of pussing out on this whole girly girl thing." The son of a bitch is trying to make it into yet another game. He's trying to outdo you, trying to get under your skin and it's working, but you can't let it show. Like hell you're gonna abscond from this. 

You keep your face composed, glad your aviators have hidden any hint of surprise on your face. You simply raise an eyebrow at Bro. "Pretty cool. Thanks." With a step forward you take the outfit from him as if it's just some regular present. A new iPhone or a DS or something. 

"Gonna put it on already, huh?" Bro says as you pluck the hanger from his hand, turning to head back to your room. You play it very cool. "No shit, bro. Gotta see how it fits." "-- Wait up," Bro interjects as you're leaving. There's another little bag in his hand, so small the Mickey D's hid it from view. Bro carelessly tosses the other bags onto the couch, digging through this tiny thing with nothing but an emblem of a wrapped candy on it. 

What comes out of that innocuous little bag is a pair of panties. 

Just when you thought the game was in your favor he pulls another fast one. "Thought you might wanna get as comfy as possible in your new gear," Bro explains. 

What a douche.

Again, you do your best not to act surprised or embarrassed, walking back to Bro and snatching them out of his hand. They're small and pink with white stripes and you want to set them on fire. Just grab one of Bro's zippos and make this into some cotton kindling. You sulk back to your room, bracing yourself to put all this shit on. Bro'll hound you for the rest of your life if you back out now, so you might as well roll with these emasculating punches and get it over with.

Bro watches you go. Stepping into your room, you shut the door behind you. You strip with sudden grumpiness. Quickly you shove your pants down, yank your shirt off. God you hate your brother sometimes. 

Begrudgingly, you tug your boxers off, staring at the panties lying flopped on the floor. They look so small you aren't sure they'll even fit. Either way, you grab them and start pulling them on. As the panties slip up your thighs you notice how smooth they feel in comparison to your regular sort of clothing, being boxers or briefs. Smooth and thin. Almost like you're not really wearing anything at all.

Once you tug them up around your ass you pull a face. Your nuts are in this weird position of being simultaneously squished up against your dick and feeling like they're gonna roll right out of this ill-fitting piece of underwear. The material's so light it's like tugging air against your groin, and you spend some time adjusting yourself, pushing your cock into different positions - none of which feel any more comfortable. 

You stare down at the outward bulge of your junk through those tiny panties, fingering the little pink bow at the top. How are you supposed to pull this look off? Like, yeah, you're pretty certain at this point that Bro's simply trying to humiliate you. It doesn't take a genius to see that. But you're determined not to give him the reaction he wants. So you pick up the blouse and pull it on. The shirt isn't so bad, but it's white and you can totally see your nipples if you look hard enough. Thank fuck that bow can probably pull attention from it.

Now for the skirt. It's easy enough to get on and surprisingly it isn't degradingly short, nor does it feel too uncomfortable. You think about pulling on the jacket to further cover yourself, but at the same time, you sort of want to prove to Bro that this isn't a big deal. You can totally walk around like a casual, careless dude dressed up as a girl. So you ditch it. You leave it on the floor and then walk toward the door with discomfort, not liking the sensation of bare skin rubbing against the skirt material and the way your boy parts sort of slide around as you walk, as if they're just barely contained. You manage to step out into the hallway though. You have to show Bro that this doesn't bother you. Then he'll lose. 

You make it to the living room, standing in the threshold that links it to the hallway. Bro's on the couch, about to open his bag of food. You swagger right out toward the futon and stand in front of him, placing your hands on your hips. "How do I look?" you ask, sarcasm doing nothing but dripping from your voice. You actually feel kind of ballsy now that you're out here, wanting to see Bro's reaction to being supremely one-upped. Seeing that his plan has totally failed to get under your skin.

Your brother turns his attention on you. 

He is calm. His feathers are unruffled. 

Bro's expression doesn't betray anything as he glances you up and down. And then he smirks very faintly. "Y'look like you're begging for someone to feel up your tits." 

You raise an eyebrow at his crassness, glancing down at the little nubs poking from the tight material of your shirt. The bow is actually not doing a great job of keeping you decent. "I don't have tits," you deadpan, and before you can even react, Bro is leaning forward and yanking you into his lap. 

Ass-first, you sort of fall onto him, struggling a bit until his muscled arms wrap around your chest. "Sure you do, homie," he says in this taunting voice, his mouth pressed against the side of your head. "They're all popped out--" he starts as he reaches a hand up to pinch one of your erect nipples through your shirt, rolling it hard between his thumb and forefinger, "--for everybody to fuckin' see."

It's such a sensitive little spot that the motion makes you squirm. Makes you groan, embarrassingly enough, from the combination of the surprise and the pain and the simple sensation of it. You try to push yourself off of him, but Bro holds you tight, his arms inescapable. "I always wanted a lil' sister," Bro murmurs into your ear in a voice that makes you want to shiver. Instead you just cringe, feeling goosebumps rise on your upper arms, a little spark of something dropping from the back of your neck straight down to your crotch.

There is no way you're going to get a boner from your brother being a dick to you. No - you're not going to get a fucking boner from your brother _period_. Maybe in some fucked up dream, but not real life. 

You elbow Bro in the ribs and launch yourself forward, away from him. He lets you go this time, still smirking as if all he did was give you a noogie or something just as innocent. You're flustered by his actions but you don't dare let it show, turning to face him, an unimpressed frown marking your lips.

"... Relax, Jesus. Anyway-- bet you wanna come out to your friends now, huh?" Bro asks, throwing his hands behind his head and leaning back. 

You stare at him, giving him the most monotone, flat "What." 

"C'mon, your e-buddies prolly wanna be informed of your new lifestyle." "-- No, I seriously doubt the fuck outta that," you protest. Too late. Bro's standing up. "Dude, I just dropped like three-hundred on that outfit, you could at least show it off." 

You fucking hate your brother. 

He's making a beeline for the hallway. Your room. You anxiously follow, trying to ease your nerves with a joke. "Three hundred, seriously? This thing better give me like ten orgasms in a row," you state, feeling ridiculous. Bro gets behind you and places his hands on your small shoulders, gently pushing you toward your computer chair. "Go on. I wanna bear witness to a brotha's coming out." 

You pull a face. "Not coming outta nothin'. Just showing this goddamn idiot dress to my friends so that you shut up." Bro's grinning at your retort and you slowly log in to Pesterchum yet again. Very slowly. You even pause as it signs you on to turn and give Bro this mutedly incredulous sort of look, as if you can't believe he's actually making you do this. 

Bro's watching you as you turn on your webcam. You're turning the lens to the side so that he's out of view. No way are you letting your friends know your bro put you up to this. 

John's the first name on your list, so you hesitantly click the name, simultaneously starting a new IM and a video chat. Another pause, but you can feel your bro's eyes boring into the back of you, so you begin to type.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \--  
TG: yo  
EB: hey dave.  
EB: ... uh.  
EB: dave, why are you wearing a dress.  
TG: got a problem egbert  
EB: is this more of your "ironic" stuff?  
EB: because to be honest you look more like a character from a magical girl anime than an aloof and cool hipster guy right now.  
TG: what the fuck  
EB: they usually wear schoolgirl outfits just like that one you have on before they transform.  
EB: seriously! look it up.  
TG: no thats stupid  
TG: look you were right about the first part but you clearly arent understanding the subtleties of the irony here  
EB: ok. whatever.  
EB: i am rolling my eyes so hard that they are basically backflipping out of my head at this point.  
TG: the sardonic joke sails wildly over the thickass cranium of some doofus with a hard-on for sailor moon yet again  
TG: nobodys surprised in fact the crowd just kind of looks on in dulled acceptance of this failure kinda like ice-ts street cred every time he speaks on camera for anything ever  
EB: i do not like sailor moon!  
EB: also, ice-t is pretty cool.  
TG: sure is  
TG: live update this kid actually likes ice-t too  
EB: "don't be hating" as you would say.  
EB: anyway dude, want to play a game?  
TG: no im busy  
EB: doing what, cosplaying a mahou shoujo?  
TG: egbert stfu  
EB: you're the one in the dress, dave.  
TG: go back to weeaboo.com already clearly you dont understand this

You disconnect from his IM before he can blabber at you any more. Well, that wasn't... too bad. You guess. John's an oblivious motherfucker. You try to close Pesterchum, but Bro comes close and jabs his finger at your friend list. "Two more, man. You gotta just get it off your chest all at once. 'S like jumpin' into a lake or ridin' a bike or some other shit you'd hear in a Lifetime movie."

God dammit.

You opt for Jade.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] \--   
TG: hey harley  
GG: hi dave!  
GG: are you wearing a dress :o  
TG: yeah  
GG: oh  
GG: i think it looks nice on you mr coolkid  
TG: thanks i know  
TG: not many can pull off this kind of look  
GG: definitely  
GG: do you want me to get on cam too or something?  
TG: nah  
GG: oh so youre just showing off :p  
TG: yeah  
GG: hehe  
GG: um rad new threads dave!  
GG: theyre super cool and ironic or something  
TG: word  
TG: anyway just wanted to give you a little preview of my new look  
TG: i know you can hook me up with some kangaroo rat ears and a tail and then itll be complete  
GG: dave  
GG: do you really want me to make you that stuff?  
TG: now that the cats outta the bag why not go full yiff  
GG: whoa ok  
GG: i will then! :D  
TG: great looking forward to it  
TG: bbl i have some pillows to hump  
TG: and a cat too  
GG: eww  
GG: well have fun i guess  
TG: i will

Easy enough. Jade's so spacey most of the time she'll probably forget all about this anyway. What you're really dreading right now is Rose. This'll be nothing but blackmail material for her, mockery material, weirdo psychotherapist fodder material.

Still, you can hear Bro behind you, leaning on your desk, still out of view of the lens but you're so damn nervous he'll be seen anyway. He's not letting you get out of this unless you hit every damn name on your list.

This one takes the longest pause yet. You brace yourself, then open the IM and activate your webcam one last time.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--   
TG: sup  
TT: Is this supposed to shock me?  
TT: It's quite tame.  
TG: nah just your run of the mill dude in a skirt here  
TT: I see.  
TG: no seriously lalonde if this is normal to you then i dont know what else to say here  
TT: I think this reveals far more about you than it does me.  
TT: What gives you the impulse to get in front of a camera and present yourself to me, all dolled up like this?  
TG: what  
TG: im not dolled up its just a skirt  
TT: Is this a truthful change of identity, or is it a desperate plea for attention?  
TT: Does your parental substitute fail to pay you adequate heed, resulting in an experimental change in psyche?  
TT: Are you now projecting this provocative figure in an attempt to catch the ever-so-elusive eye of your older brother?  
TG: jesus fuck whats your deal  
TT: I'm just tossing out theories. No need to be so defensive.  
TG: im not  
TG: anyway youve probably filled your creepy pseudo-psychologist-thing quota for the day and now youre not even ambling into messed up territory  
TG: youre just straight up careening into it like youre last place at the olympic hurdles and desperately trying not to disappoint your fam watchin at home  
TG: so peace out  
TT: That was quicker than usual.  
TT: Oh well. A pleasure, as always.

Trust Lalonde to make the situation even more awkward. You feel embarrassment rising in your cheeks and you refuse to look at your brother, snickering behind you at that last conversation.

Bro gives you a pat on the head that you interpret as condescending. You dodge out of the way of his hand, irritated. "I'm real proud of ya, kid," he says with such obviously faked sunniness that you want to kick him. So you do. You aim it right at his shin and, predictably, he dodges. "What's up, got your first period already?" he asks, barking out a little laugh before he grabs you by the back of your neck. You squirm and struggle but he's got a vice grip, and he chucks you toward your bed like you weigh nothing. Sometimes you forget how strong Bro is. 

You land face-first into a pillow, bounce, then quickly scrabble back up, sitting on your knees. 

The front of your skirt's up. Gravity makes it fall back down in a second or so to cover your manhood, still an obvious little bump barely contained in those panties, but for some hard beats of silence you look Bro in the eye. He's looking at you. Or was looking at you. At the outline of your dick, more accurately, but his eyes flick back up to lock with yours. 

He blinks first. "Too slow, sis. Poor show," he replies, turning toward your door to leave. He doesn't close the door behind him and that annoys you, so you're jumping up to slam it shut, at the same time ripping this stupid outfit off. It'll get tossed into the pile of forgotten clothes in your closet or stuffed into a drawer to never be seen again. You _have_ to have sated Bro's shitty little dare by now. This'll be the end of it.

You roll the clothes up once they're off, drop then kick them toward the closet like the shittiest soccer ball ever made. They flop uselessly into a crumpled mess, and you give them a contemptuous eye before you head back to your computer. 

It's hot so you sit in the bare minimums, boredly clicking link to link and trying to forget what just happened. 

Your brother leaves you alone for some hours and you avoid talking to any of your friends, instead trying to mix some music. You chill out. It's quiet until Bro calls from the hallway that he's going out again tonight. Still irritated at what he made you do, you don't respond, instead turning your music up. When you hear the front door slam shut you feel glad that he's gone.

Hours pass and you really don't do much else. You're content to be home alone and still you're too nervy to try jerking off to porn on the big screen again, but after awhile you stretch, get up and go out to the living room. Even kids with Internet addiction need breaks every once in awhile. You flip the TV on and hit buttons at random, finding a movie to watch. Some violent slasher flick. The movie actually holds your interest for its duration, as dumb as the plot is - it's entertaining, and you can't really e-hang with your buddies right now, so you don't mind a break from the computer. There's blood and guts and sex and people being moronic. Pure entertainment. 

It's helping to take your mind off what happened earlier. The embarrassment of getting on cam with your friends and exposing them to this shit, the way your skirt had given Bro a nice little flash. And the way he'd checked it out. God, what the even fuck was that? You suddenly remember getting eyed the other day in the kitchen, too. 

What else do you remember? Some tiny, tiny jolt of... excitement. Like you were seeing something you weren't supposed to see. Being looked at like that by your own flesh and blood. It's grossing you out yet making you feel sort of intrigued in a really sick way.

You try to stop thinking about it and just focus on the movie. But as that movie rolls into its final minutes, your thoughts are interrupted. There's footsteps pounding up to the front door. You hear your brother's voice, but someone's accompanying him. 

Fuck it to hell. Well, if Bro's brought company it's time to beat it. You leave the TV going in your scramble to your room, shutting the door just as Bro opens the front one. You can hear him conversing with some girl. Inwardly roll your eyes - looks like it didn't take Bro very long to get back into the swing of things, dragging home various patrons from the clubs he'd DJ at. 

In the dark you go to your computer and take a seat. You're not sleepy, so you figure you'll just turn up your headphones again and drown out the inevitable sounds of sex. That lasts for about five minutes. Then you start thinking - Bro's ruined your nights a few times with this shit. Why don't you give him a taste of his own medicine? 

Your plan is to walk out and use the bathroom, thereby disrupting any potential fucking. You know Bro probably wouldn't care, but it'd throw off his girlfriend of the night and she'd probably want to leave. You head for your door, opening it carelessly, sort of hoping you make as much noise as possible. 

The sight that greets you as you step into the hallway makes you freeze. 

This girl he dragged in, she's skinny and looks young. Younger than Bro, probably just turned eighteen. What really strikes you is her hair. It's short, just about an inch or so longer than yours, same platinum blonde except you can tell hers is a dye job. It's still striking to see, little spikes cascading over her pale neck. Eyes ringed in deep black, lips pink and full and shiny, and her face has these eye-catching cheekbones just as sharp as your own.

Bro is about to fuck a girl who looks like you. Well, sort of. Maybe you're just seriously overthinking it.

The both of them are on the couch, Bro facing the direction of the hallway and towering over this chick, straddling her waist. He's in the process of removing his shirt and you watch how his defined muscles move under his skin. He's hard and it's this giant bulge in his pants like he stuffed a fucking rattlesnake down there. You can't help but be a little enthralled. You've only ever seen it in the confines of his jeans or his boxers and some sick part of you wants to know what it really looks like, if it's massive, if it's thick or just really long, if it's cut or uncut.

You suddenly realize that you're looking at your brother's chest and at his groin with far more focus than this girl's tits. You blink and, right, yeah, she took her shirt off. Doesn't really hold your interest for more than a few passing seconds, your eyes shifting back up to look at your bro's body.

Neither of them have noticed you yet. Bro's not even looking your way, instead focused entirely on this girl he's about to fuck. His hands go to his belt. He unbuckles it, slips it loose, unzips his pants. A delta of white shows behind the cover of his jeans and you're watching every movement. You watch him rub himself through his jeans, slow and long and deliberate strokes. The motion makes you a little anxious, a little excited. You feel like you should be more grossed out by peeping on this shit rather than curious, wanting to watch how your brother has sex, but you can't pull your eyes away.

Pretty abruptly, Bro raises his head. And oh, he notices you. 

You're glued to the spot in some sort of fear, some sort of adrenaline surge as your eyes lock with his. In the dim light you can't exactly tell if he can see you, but it soon becomes obvious that he can. He knows you see him. And he doesn't care. Slowly - and you're watching, fuck are you watching - he lowers one hand. He slips it under the girl's short, short skirt, fingers trailing along her inner thigh before disappearing from view. Whatever he does next, it makes her gasp and moan, her back arching under his touch. 

But his eyes don't leave you. Not for a second. He watches you the entire time he does this and you watch right back as his tongue slips out, dragging itself across his lower lip.

Jesus fucking Christ.

You break out of your freeze and sort of stumble backward into your room again, shutting the door to the sound of Bro's hookup cooing at him for more. Cold sweat, embarrassment. Your brain's swimming and you don't know what to do, so you simply fall into your bed, grabbing desperately for your iPod. You aren't going to listen to them doing the nasty out there, not after this.

It's hours before you manage to calm down enough to drift off, and you're so wound up over it - not just being caught but the way Bro _looked_ at you like that, almost like he _wanted_ you to watch - you don't even realize when the sleep sets in, when your mind finally shuts itself off.


	3. Chapter 3

You aren't eager to get out of bed when you wake up. You stay in your room for about an hour after you wake up, distracting yourself on the computer before pangs of hunger and needing to piss come crashing into you like a sudden wave. You pull yourself from your chair and trudge toward the door. Bro's got his back to you as you cross the hallway into the bathroom. He doesn't say anything when you walk into the kitchen and open the fridge, lazily dodging a falling pile of swords from the icebox as you reach for leftover pizza. You glance at him, but he's absorbed with whatever he's looking at on the screen, so you take the opportunity to head right back to your room. 

Awkward discussion crisis averted. 

It's another stretch of hours until the sun gets high in the sky, starts to decline when, without warning, your door suddenly flies open. You react immediately by leaping out of your chair and into a battle pose, but nobody's there. A second of pause, though, and a kunai comes flying into the room. It stabs itself into your wall, a bright orange sticky note attached to the hilt.

In thick black marker, it simply reads "roof." You know what that means.

You pull on some clothes and grab a katana from your collection. It's sweltering outside and you're not sure why Bro's summoned you for a strife right now. He's waiting there, shirtless, sword slung over his shoulder as he waits for you. 

He just wants to show off, you think, staring bitterly at the taut muscle on Bro's body, the awesome scars lacing his lightly tanned skin. You swipe your bangs out of your face and he's on you instantly, his sword slamming toward your chest with blinding speed. You block it, your body shaken with the impact of Bro's attack, but you manage to hold it before diving to Bro's left and aiming a slash of your own at his middle. Blocked. 

The two of you do this for awhile. This lasts only ten minutes or so before you start to feel the heat. Literal in this sense, panting, feeling a bead of sweat drip down your forehead.

You try to ignore it, launching yourself at Bro. He sidesteps like you're nothing, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and yanking you back. "You're soaked, shorty," he comments, and you find your eyes at his mostly-smooth chest before glancing up. He's got an annoying smirk on his face. "Why don't you cool off?" 

And he grabs your shirt around the hem, trying to yank it up around your head. You struggle immediately, arms flailing briefly before you smack his hands away. "'m fine," you mumble. You're actually not and you should probably listen to him and lose the shirt, but after last night you're feeling strangely self-conscious. 

Bro doesn't let up. He must not like your answer because he's throwing you on the ground and descending on your body. The tip of his katana slices into the cement right beside your head. It's startling, but you also know he wouldn't actually stab you in the face. Bro sits up over you, his legs straddling your waist and your eyes are drawn to his body. His chest, his stomach, all covered in this light sheen of sweat that makes every curve of muscle glimmer in the sun. It shines as he breathes heavy, as he rolls his shoulders back, tendons flexing. "Are you doin' this on purpose?" you snap, irritated both by the way your brother showcases his body and the way it sort of excites you. You squirm under him, trying to get away.

Bro seems to know what you mean but he doesn't answer you. "If you ain't gonna take that thing off, then we're done." He leans over you, both hands tightly grabbing the hilt of his sword. When he yanks the blade out of the ground, muscle flexing beneath his collarbone and arms, you feel something stir in your groin.

_get the fuck off get the fuck off get the fuck off get the fuck off get the fuck off get the fuck off_

The second he starts to stand up and give you some leeway you dart out from under him and stand so that your back's to him. You head back to the door leading back downstairs. Bro doesn't say anything, but part of you feels like he knows exactly what just happened.

As you're hopping down the stairs, Bro calls down to you. "Got a present for ya inside, lil' man." A present. Bro never really announces when he gets you stuff, he just kind of hands it over - so you're instantly suspicious. 

"Kay," you reply. Once you're both in the apartment you want a shower real bad, but your curiosity makes you look at Bro expectantly. He goes for the hall closet and procures a shipping box. There's Japanese writing all over it, the only English being your address. "The hell is this," you demand, taking the box from your brother. He looks amused. "Open it."

So you do. Opening the box you find a shitload of pink tissue paper. 

Oh Christ. 

Bro kneels down to watch you hesitantly pull the contents of the box out. It's another outfit. Another schoolgirl outfit, but this one is much different. The shirt's about halved, still white but only long enough to reach just under your ribs, looks like. You stare at it for a second before grabbing the next piece - a skirt. It's red plaid with big pleats and, again, obviously tailored with sex in mind. This thing doesn't even look like it'd cover your ass the whole way. As far as extras, there's another pair of stockings, but these come in white, along with a little punky tie to match the skirt.

Bro wants a reaction you won't give to him. You simply tilt your head with a little shrug. "Neat." You can feel Bro watching you as you fold the stuff up in the box again. Calm. Cool. Collected. Like you ain't even bothered.

"Since you like it so much, think we oughta go balls-deep in this crossdressin' thing. Or should I say vag-deep." He grins at his own lame joke and you inwardly seethe, but keep yourself composed. 

"Really. How so." You're monotone in the face of what must be a new challenge. A new dare. 

"We should hit up the mall." 

"For what? Make-up?" You're being sarcastic but Bro's eyes light up. "See, The fact that ya got it on the first guess just straight up tells me how much you wanna go." 

You roll your eyes. 

"Fine, but I gotta shower first. I feel nasty." Sweaty and hot and scuffed up from the strife and you need to be away from your bro for a little bit. "Be sure to put on your new outfit," Bro calls as you head toward the bathroom. Your new outfit. Oh fuck no.

"Dude, I'm not wearin' that shit in public." You're firm about it and it makes Bro tilt his head. "Not even the other one? C'mon, man, this is a commitment. Don't punk out now."

You want to kick him again. You want to reply: _This isn't a commitment for me, it's a completely unironic, shit-tier dare because something's wrong with you. That's all this is._ Instead you simply sigh, giving a nod your Bro's way. Losing it isn't the way to beat him.

You drag your shower out for as long as you can. Maybe if you take long enough Bro'll decide it's too late to go or he'll have lost interest. But when you step out, toweling your hair off, you see Bro turn toward you from the couch. You can almost sense how stoked he is to be making you do this crap. "Making" - as if you're not agreeing to do it. Like, yeah, maybe Bro would taunt you about being a pussy for the rest of your life, but you could easily tell him to go fuck himself if you really wanted to stop this.

Part of you doesn't.

After exchanging silent stares - you can feel him mentally goading you to back out, you're sure of it - you head to your room. Thankfully, as girly as the other outfit is, it's not horribly revealing or anything. You shed the towel around your waist and slip into the shirt, buttoning it slowly. When it comes to the skirt, you think about grabbing your boxers. But. Those panties Bro got you, they'd fit better under the skirt. Your boxers'd get all rumpled and bunched up. And it's not like you really give a shit, but they might be more comfortable. Ironically. 

So you retrieve those cotton panties from the drawer you shoved them in, putting them on. That feeling of your junk about to tumble right out returns, and you almost shiver when you pull the skirt up over your legs. Feeling the material of the skirt sliding delicately over your dick, only that thin fabric shielding you from any friction, it's definitely noticeable. 

As you walk back out to the living room you're actually considering changing just to relieve that tickling sensation every time you step, but Bro is all over you. He approaches, smirking and raising a hand to stroke through your damp hair. "Hey little girl." You give him a blank look and walk to the door, slipping on a pair of red Vans. 

They don't match your outfit at all but Bro isn't saying anything as he grabs his keys. The two of you take the elevator down and head for the parking garage. You hurry toward Bro's car, jumping shotgun when he unlocks the doors. Bro gets in in silence, only looking faintly amused as he starts the car.

The ride there is mercifully quiet and you're content to just tap your fingers on the passenger door handle, shifting around in your seat every once in awhile. Once at the mall, Bro finds a parking spot and then claps his hand on your exposed knee. 

"Ready for a makeover?" he jeers, and you slide away from his touch, getting out of the car in silence. The two of you walk to the mall entrance and now, with so many people around to see you, the nerves start to kick in. You keep your chin pointed down, glad your shades hide a good chunk of your face. You don't really know where Bro wants to go, or where he wants you to go, but he's walking past you like he has a plan.

"Hope nobody tries to flip my skirt," you mumble as you follow Bro. It's a joke. It's meant to be a joke, at least. Bro must not have gotten the memo, because he instantly stops. You're watching him reach for the the hem of that black skirt and time seems to slow down for a second as you seriously question whether or not he's about to do this to you.

"What, like this... ?" Bro asks. And then he lifts it up.

You have not known true mortification until this moment.

Instantly you react, grabbing the hem of your skirt and tugging it back down to cover yourself. Your face is searing and you can't possibly hide it. Part of you is beyond caring, so embarrassed at this point that you're numb to your preoccupation with projecting a cool demeanor. You're glued to the spot, eyes on the floor, unable to deal with the notion that all these people walking past just got a load of your barely-restrained junk. All these people saw it and oh god they're probably all thinking about what a queer you are, how idiotic you look like this, man that was the tiniest outline of a dick I've ever seen - all these people. All these fucking people. 

"Asshole," you hiss at Bro, your voice strained, barely above a whisper. "You fuckin' douchebag, don't-- do that again." A pause and you realize you're almost trembling, the weight of all those stranger's silent judgments hitting you like a freight train. 

Bro doesn't seem very deterred at all. He's smirking, yanking you close, his arm settling heavy around your shoulders as he tugs you against his body. "Lighten up, nobody even gives a shit." 

You hate him so much. You want to take a pickaxe to the floor and dig a hole and bury yourself in it.

He keeps his arm on you and forces you into a store obviously made for teen girls. Pink everywhere. You feel incredibly awkward as chicks your age glide around you, telling their friends or moms how cute or pretty something is. There's no way you blend in.

Bro isn't helping at all, picking out random hair clips and stuffed animals and shoving them your way, asking if you like them. You decide to just face a wall and act really interested in the lip gloss selection. Bro sidles up next to you and checks the wall out too. He reaches for a package. "Cherry bomb. Oh man, this is practically callin' to you, lil' man." 

You feel like every single person in this store can probably hear you, so you keep your voice low. "Whatever. Just throw it in the bag." Bro obliges with much more enthusiasm with you, digging around for more. "How 'bout some eyeliner? Gotta get that raccoon look." You're getting more uncomfortable by the second and Bro won't shut the fuck up.

"Yo, I bet they even got training bras here." He's barely done with his sentence before you're emphatically denying him. "No. Hell to the no." 

Bro seems mildly disappointed. You start to pout a little. Striders don't pout. But you think that that, coupled with your girly look, might make Bro back off. 

And it works. The sick fuck reaches down and strokes a hand through your hair. "You're cute when you're mad," he says lowly. You sock him in the stomach. It's like punching a brick wall and it actually kind of hurts. But he's walking toward the register, snickering at your attempt to hurt him. The stuff gets rung up without much hassle and then you're clinging to Bro's arm. Just like the girl he seems to want you to act like.

It's a little weird for you, unfamiliar. But you want to get out of here and he seems to like when you play it up. "Can we leave now?" you whine, wrapping your arms around one of Bro's and glancing up at him. You keep your head tilted, exposing your eyes a bit. You're trying to look cute. You feel completely stupid, but you hope it works. 

Bro looks down at you in silence before he nods. "Yeah," he replies, his voice softer. Lacking an upcoming insult. Your act totally worked. You feel partly victorious, partly silly, partly thrilled.

So the two of you leave the mall with the addition of this new gear. Once you're in the car you slump back into the seat. That was certainly an experience.

"Bet you can't wait to pretty yourself up," Bro says, similarly leaning back as he starts the car. "Chompin' at the bit here," you reply dully. "I'm basically Seabiscuit on meth." 

Bro reaches over to ruffle your hair up and you try to shove his hand away. "Sure are gettin' touchy-feely lately," you say, trying to hint at more than just what's happened today. Bro in general has been... well, the both of you are aware of what's going on. Your brother seems to hesitate before responding. "So what. You're hella cute lately." The way he says it - your face is heating up again. Just like the little schoolgirl you're dressed as. 

You look out the window the entire way home, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. You'd normally have a razor-sharp retort for a comment like that, but after what's been going on in the past few weeks on top of all of these confusing feelings for your bro, him calling you cute in a way that sounded totally unmocking, unironic? Yeah. It's making you even more confused. 

Once you get home the both of you ride the elevator back up in silence. The second you get into the apartment he makes a beeline for his computer. 

"Aight, you're gonna love this," he says, taking a seat with the shopping bag. The one with your stuff in it. You approach him, cautious yet curious. "What now, legit camwhoring? Is that the end of the drag gauntlet?" you ask, crossing your arms. Bro hands you the little plastic bag. "Grab that new outfit I got you 'n get this shit on." You take the bag with an exasperated noise and head out of the living room, not even bothering to question him.

You kick off your Vans and leave them in the hallway. You're not sure about putting this new outfit on. It's fetishy bullshit. This is stuff reserved for the house, for playing around with your significant other, for showing off your body.

And you're shy about showing off your body. Especially to Bro. Who is not your significant other.

Still, you have to wonder what he's got schemed out this time, so with slight reluctance you begin to change clothes. The differences become obvious fast. You keep your panties on and as you switch skirts, the plaid one really does just barely cover your ass.

Once "dressed" you take a look at the new stockings. The material is similar to your black ones, only white. You slip them on while standing up and notice that your ass mostly exposed when you bend over. Yeah, you're thoroughly uncomfortable, but you kind of want to get this over with so you figure it's time to get prettied up, as Bro said. 

You take a seat in your comp chair and you dig through the little bag, pulling out the lip gloss. Ripping it open, you're about as ungraceful as you can get, tossing the cardboard and plastic on the floor. You've never handled makeup in your life and you're unsure, uncapping the top off the gloss and inspecting the fuzzy little wand that comes out. It's coated in glistening pinkish-red, and hesitantly, you start to apply it. 

It feels thick, sticky on your mouth and you rub your lips together like it's chapstick. Some of it must have trickled into your mouth because you now taste this sickening sweetness on the tip of your tongue, artificial cherry and sugar tingling at your taste buds.

... Right, you have eyeliner too. You're even more unsure as you take that out of the bag, out of its small package. That pencil looks sharp as hell and you decide to not even bother with it. Fuck it, you think, tossing the eyeliner back into the bag and going for the barrettes. Bro only picked out pink and white. You clip your bangs back, attaching four of the sparkly little things into your bright blond locks. 

All right. That's it. You're done. Now for the hard part. You get up and head for the door. You grab your shades out of habit as you walk into the hallway and your heart starts to speed up, anxious in the face of uncertainty as to what the hell Bro's got planned now, as well as his judgment of what you've got on.

Bro doesn't seem to notice when you walk out, his back to you, typing away at the computer. So you make your way over, quiet but uncomfortable as the skirt slides up over your nearly-bare ass with each step. Right as you think you might be able to sneak up on him, he turns and grabs you around the waist, yanking you not into, but over his lap, your back up to him. As well as your hardly-concealed panties. 

"Whoa," Bro states as you flush, trying to push yourself off him and out of this position. "Didn't know this thing was that short." 

He smacks your ass and you give this pathetic little whimper, mostly from surprise, embarrassment. "Bullshit," you snap back, wiggling off him and onto the floor at Bro's feet. "Watch your mouth, little lady," he jeers, then reaches down, grabbing you under the arms. "Enough horsin' around, get up here." 

You let him pull you into his lap again, still blushing. Bro looks up at you as you sort of straddle his hips, sitting up on your knees. It's an intimate position, especially for you, considering you and Bro rarely touch outside of strifes. But despite your current annoyance at your brother, it also feels kind of... nice.

"What d'you want me to do, anyway, Bro? I kinda got shit to get done. Can't sit around bein' a princess all day." 

"We're gonna play Russian roulette with some cyber-dongs," Bro explains. You stare at him, awaiting explanation. Chatroulette, yeah, the joke doesn't escape you. You're quick to move, then, turning yourself around and purposely squirming hard, pressing your ass into him. It's meant to annoy him, but in response he only sort of grunts in a way you take as almost pleased.

Huh.

You watch Bro screw around on the site, then activate his webcam. The both of you pop up in that little window, Bro adjusting it so the frame is more focused on you. You grab it and turn it back, equalizing it and he pokes you in the side, a tickling jab that makes you jump a little. "Don't," you warn him, and he simply grins. "Sure thing, cutie." 

That turns you red again. Simultaneously you want Bro to knock it off with that borderline-flirting bullshit and for him to continue. It excites a part of you and irritates another. This is supposed to just be some terrible dare and Bro keeps doing these things to you like he's not in on the joke.

"Aight, we'll pretend to be together and see how many people we can dupe," Bro says. You raise an eyebrow. "That sounds like the shittiest game we've ever played."

"No, c'mon, don't wuss out now." Challenging your masculinity. Your pride. As if sitting perched on your brother's lap in a fucking microskirt isn't bad enough.

"Fine," you concede. "Hurry up 'n find someone." 

It takes just seconds for you two to stumble upon a guy jerking off. Bro attempts communication while you stare in muted repulsion. It's some hairy dude with a gut that's clearly never experienced a sit-up. "Pick someone else, Christ," you mutter, even though Bro has the cam volume off. "Gettin' picky, huh? This dude not hunky enough for you?" Bro teases, his voice in your ear, making your skin prick up. 

"Well I mean, if I gotta endure some dude beatin' it to my image then he's at least gotta have a nice body, come on." Bro snickers, a quick huff against the shell of your ear. "Glad you're comin' to terms with your sexuality." 

You elbow him in the chest and, quite unexpectedly, he bites your earlobe. A soft noise of surprise escapes you. "The fuck... ?" you ask, cringing away from him - despite that, it was kind of - well, it didn't feel that bad. Even if it was your bro and he's pissing you off right now. You almost want him to do it again.

Bro hits the "next" button rapidly, searching the annals of Chatroulette for a suitable target. Bro stops on another guy, another completely average dude, but at least he's clothed. Bro begins to type.

yo does my gf look hot or what.

The response is an up-nod from the guy, and this time you're the one who reaches over to find the next chatter. Bro claps a hand on your thigh and you freeze at the touch, feeling his fingers on your skin, his palm resting on the pleated fabric of your oh so short skirt. "What're you gettin' shy for? You'll never see these d-bags again in your life."

You shove his hand off your leg before you give an exasperated sound. "Can we just find a guy without a cam or somethin'?" you ask, and Bro shrugs. "If you're shy, sure." You're not really in the mood to argue with him, so you let him begin the search. It doesn't take too long. Bro opens up each conversation with the same ctrl+v text and most of the responses consist of "lol", "gay", and "asl", before immediate disconnect. 

But then you find him. You're assuming it's a him, anyway. He starts the conversation this time, and unlike everyone else you've met this night he types in perfect syntax. 

What a beautiful sight.

Bro's grinning at the message and he puts a hand on your shoulder. 

yeah but what about my gf????

You shrug his hand off, your face a blank contrast to his smug little smirk. 

Good one. I think you may have hurt her feelings, though. She looks unimpressed with you. :)

You lean in to type:

no hes just a douche

To which the response is:

What's your name?

You hesitate to reply but Bro comes in to save the day yet again, quickly typing out: dani. danielle. Jesus fuck he's already got this planned out.

A pretty name for a pretty girl.

Sarcastically, you type back: yeah we went to the mall and he pimped me out in all this shit do you like

You lean into the camera, adjusting a barrette for whatever pedophile's lurking behind the text. You even pucker your lips a little, watching the way they shine from the gloss. You've got yourself pressed against Bro's mid-leg as you sit forward like that and you become suddenly aware of the fact that he's probably got a really nice view of your ass right now. You reach behind your back and try to tug the skirt down. It's useless. The thing is unbearably short. By now, the mysterious stranger's replied. 

I do like. Your boyfriend is very lucky. Does he treat you right? You do love him, don't you?

Even though your response is meant to be sarcastic still, you feel your face start to heat up again as you type a "yes". What comes next brings another embarrassing blush that absolutely can't be hidden.

Why don't you give him a kiss? :)

You're almost nervous to turn around right away and face your brother, so you stall by responding:

sure thing smiley

And then you glance over your shoulder at Bro. He's sitting back in the chair like he's some kind of baller, giving you eyes that look a mix of amused and curious. Silently he's saying: your call. You glance back at the webcam before you turn to him again, and then you go for it. You don't know why. Heat of the moment. If Bro asked you'd say it was irony. But as you press your body against his, leaning up closer to his face, feeling heat between your faces, you know it's legit. 

You sort of go still against him once your lips meet. He's returning the kiss but not advancing it any further. The both of you hang like that for some seconds before you pull away and sit up again, not facing him but his computer. Your heart feels all aflutter and you suddenly realize that you just had your first kiss.

With your brother.

thatll be 60 bucks

Oh, but that was so short. I'd like to see a real kiss if you're going to start charging. :)

You're about to type a response when you feel Bro sitting up behind you, his arm slipping around your shoulder and tugging you into his broad chest again. You blink up at him but before you can say jackshit he's leaning his head down and meeting your lips with his own. His kiss is more forceful this time, open-mouthed but not shoving his tongue down your throat or anything - holy fuck. You're not sure what to do. You've never made out with anyone before so you fumble along with Bro, trying to copy what he does with his mouth.

Bro's doing most of the kissing and you're just kind of letting him, but nonetheless you're just barely a teenager and this is turning you on. You shift a little, half on Bro's lap and half on the chair. He pulls you closer. His hands trail along the small of your back when he's got you between his legs, one of them sliding up your inner thigh. There's a storm of emotion inside you: mild panic sets in, but mostly you're ashamed to feel excited as his fingers inch under your skirt, close to sensitive skin, so close you're almost tempted to roll your hips his way-- 

And then it's abruptly over. Bro pulls away and types into the chat window:

wheres that 60 at yo.

You're half hard and this was just a game to Bro, wasn't it? He was just fucking with you. You blink dumbly at the screen like you're remembering it's there. Smiley guy is typing a response. 

That's better. Dani, what else did your boyfriend get you? I'd like to see your outfit.

As if Bro didn't just make out with you and almost touch your dick, you face the webcam again, sitting up a bit so he can see your bare stomach. 

You look so pretty. :) What else do you have on?

And so you get up on your knees. You show him your skirt.

That's a cute skirt. You look great in it. I bet your boyfriend can't keep his hands off you.

Bro's obviously seen that message because next thing you know, he's reaching a hand out to give your ass another sharp little slap, then giving the cam a thumbs up. The force of it makes you pitch forward more from surprise than anything, your hands on the desk, back arching ever so slightly in a pose that must be provocative, because when you glare over your shoulder at your brother you notice a nice big tent he's got pitched in his jeans. 

Good god that thing is as huge as ever. He catches you looking at it and he stares right back, pretty clearly unafraid. You break eye contact first and glance back at the screen. Still up on your knees because you're not sure if you want to sit back down right now.

Looks like someone's excited. Why don't you go take care of him, Dani? :)

That manages to make you blush all over again. Man, you sure are losing your cool every five seconds, aren't you? Turning into a pink cheeked bitch at the drop of a hat, or in this case, at the mention of doing something sexual with your brother. He reaches up again like he's read your mind, wrapping strong arms around your tiny chest and holding you against him as he sinks back into the leather of of the chair.

"Yeah, Dani. Take care of me," he mumbles in this low voice, making your skin goosebump. You can feel his erection pressing into your thigh through his jeans. Few things leave you at a complete loss at what to do, but here, you're stuck. Bro's got you. You're not sure if you want to try to get away or... do something else. Both have their appeal. 

You reach your hands up to try to pry Bro's arms off you, which basically amounts to a squirrel trying to lift a cinderblock. Bro's strong as fuck and not letting you go. You squirm and kick around a little, groaning in protest. 

Yet you're not telling him to stop.

You're not telling him to let go or fuck off because you're not playing anymore. Because some part of you - it's enjoying this. Bro lowers one hand to rub a circle on your belly. Even with only one arm around you it's still enough to keep you locked in place. But you're not struggling anymore. You're glancing down at his hand. Half curious and half stunned, you look up at his face. As usual, it's unreadable as he continues to rub your stomach, t railing his hand up your chest. He gropes at the tight skin where your tits would be if you were a chick, fingers working your now-hard nipples, caressing the little nubs through your shirt. You've never really played with yourself like that and the sensation's intense. Intense enough to make you even harder, apparently. You become aware that your boner's straining the hell out of your panties, and with the way you're pulled back like this and squirming all over the place you're giving Smiley another fantastic view. Fucking awesome. Your eyes slide to the screen - he's said something.

Horny little thing, isn't she? :)

You're grossed the hell out by the way this stranger's drooling over you, but at the same time Bro's touch is driving you crazy. His hand's going low again, fingertips playing with the waistline of your skirt. He brushes his lips up against your ear, almost nuzzling at your head. 

"Want me to touch you, kid?" Bro murmurs, his voice low, tinged with arousal. The sound of it sends a shock straight to your groin. Honestly - you want to say yes. You want to nod and move against him and feel what it's like to get a handjob. You want to watch how he reacts to you, you want to feel his hard-on under you as he strokes your dick. But you can't bring yourself to articulate it. To actually verbalize it. So you stare at him, mouth open like you're about to say something that just won't come.

He seems to know what you want though. His fingers slide down the plaid fabric and you look away as he trails them up your thigh, up under the skirt itself. Your breath hitches. He's so damn close. Right as he's about to make contact with your cock his hand starts to slide away, back down your skin. Up. Then down. He's toying with you, wants to make you ask or beg or plead for it. You know his game and you're refusing, shifting around in his lap, making a noise that sounds almost like a whine. He refuses just the same, using his nails to lightly drag along your hot skin. 

You can't do this. Fuck, you really can't. As hard as your cock is right now, you try to sit up.

"Bro--" you whisper as he holds you tight. But all you have to do is place your hand on his chest. He suddenly lets go.

His arms fall slack, his face unreadable. You're almost shocked at how easy that was. You turn back to the computer screen. Smiley's sent you some more commentary.

Over already? What a shame.

You feel frustrated and so you type a quick retort.

time to head back to the playground you creepy asshole

You don't wait for a reply, instead pushing yourself off Bro. You head to your room. You shut the door. And you're overcome with the need to relieve yourself. 

Your skin feels warm, itchy all over, uncomfortable and aroused. The second you've got that door shut you sort of stumble toward your turntables, leaning against it, one hand slipping under your short skirt. You don't even bother to tease yourself, grabbing your length instantly. Your palm's sweaty, sticky on your throbbing dick as you start to jerk off hard and quick, not even needing to imagine a scenario to get yourself off. Thinking about how it felt to be pressed against Bro, the anticipation of waiting for him to touch you... it's so dirty, so fucking dirty and wrong and sick and it makes you come harder than you ever have.

You've barely even touched the sensitive skin and you can feel yourself letting loose, hips bucking as you pitch against the table for support. You ride your orgasm out, panting, watching thick fluid spurt out the reddened tip of your cock. A soft moan escapes your throat as you stroke yourself one more time. It's overstimulation and it kind of hurts. You must be a pathetic sight, half-crumpled, jizz trickling snail-slow down the side of your turntables and your inner thigh. You feel nasty, and not just physically. It was the the thought of your Bro that got you off that hard. The idea of yourself in this slutty little outfit. You feel like maybe you should be ashamed of yourself. But you aren't. Nah, not really.

At least not until your brother decides to come in without even knocking. And his eyes fall on you like fucking Judgment Day.

You stare at him over your shoulder and he stares right back. Your sudden sexual nirvana meets deer in the headlights and you're a mix of mortified and sort of smug, almost. Wanting him to see you like this. Putting him on the spot for once.

Bro's the first to break the silence. "Hope that didn't screw up your mixers, man."

Before you can even think of a clever retort, he's gone.

With an irritated noise you tug your clothes off and change into something more casual. Less nympho. Then you clean off your turntables, the important bits thankfully spared from the spunk assault. You don't really want to face Bro again, but at the same time, you feel like you have to be confrontational or he'll one-up you again. And this is still a game, right?

You'll do it tomorrow. For sure.


	4. Chapter 4

It's been a week. You didn't actually live up to your self-promise of confronting Bro. The two of you still haven't discussed any of this shit. And like, you weren't expecting a heart-to-heart regarding the whole "let's pretend I'm a chick and act like it's a trial of one-upsmanship when it's clearly not anymore" thing. You're always wondering what's going on in your brother's head, but that's a constant. It's mostly okay, because he hasn't confronted you, either. 

He's just been buying you things. A few new outfits. Another one tailored with sex in mind but he's gotten you regular dresses aside from that, fluffy lacy frilly dresses in what he's referred to as a "lolita style" or some shit. Bro says it's big in Japanese street fashion. What a fucking nerd. 

You haven't touched them, but today, you're trying on the sexy one. It's a cheerleader outfit. Navy and white and pink, long-sleeved but tight enough to show off your boyish contours. In contrast, the skirt is short as fuck, just barely stretching past your ass. You've donned the white stockings and you're ready for this. Ready to sorta-seduce your brother, since he clearly has a thing for you in girl clothes.

You want this brand new game and so far, you haven't had to push for stuff you want. You usually just hint at it and the thing shows up on your desk in a matter of days. But with this game, you've even gone so far as to give your bro a hug as you mentioned - "damn that new Pro Skater game looks sweet," and it isn't anywhere in sight.

Maybe it's time for some softcore prostitution.

You saunter on out into the living room, feeling confident. Bro's on the futon, an arm behind his head, shirtless. "Sup babydoll?" he asks as you come into view. It's meant to be a mocking pet name, but you don't really mind, settling on the edge of the futon. "Not much. Just hangin' out. Kinda want that new Pro Skater game," you say very casually.

The response is not what you want to hear. "Gonna have to earn it, kiddo," Bro says. He glances at you, then away, like he's disinterested. And that annoys you. You hate when he does shit like that, but you also just spent all that time getting ready for him to pop a boner. What's the deal. 

"Literally earn it," Bro continues. "So how you gonna pay for it, bro?" 

You give him a blank stare. You're not even old enough to get a job yet, so... you shrug. "Haven't had a problem givin' me stuff before, dude," you point out. Bro keeps going like he didn't even hear you.

"Know what people pay money for? Porn, man. How else you think we're rollin' in dough? Dough you could be makin' yourself. I think it's high time for some practice." He smirks.

You cross your arms. "You want me to start making porn for you? Jesus, talk about lazy. All right, gimme two smuppets and I'll smush 'em together for ten minutes or something."

Bro shakes his head. "Nah. What really brings the big bucks is hardcore human-on-puppet," Bro explains. "So if you really want that game, grab one and hang out for five minutes." He gets up and starts digging around in a pile of stuff. Slightly confused, you bend down to grab an electric blue smuppet off the floor. For some reason you feel like you should go to your room, so you do, glancing at Bro as you leave. You feel kind of in the dark as you sit on your bed, not sure what the hell Bro's got planned now.

Bro comes in a minute later, revealing what he was looking for. It's his video camera. Like, the one he uses to film the stuff he puts on Plushrump. You have a sudden lump in your throat. 

He's all smirks though, coming in and flipping on a light. "Okay, lemme just..." Bro fiddles with the recorder and you see the light go on that means it's recording. He points it at you, giving you a thumbs-up. "Got a feeling this'll be a massive hit, Dave. Make it look good."

You sit there and just raise an eyebrow. "Uh, what do you want me to do," comes your very flat reply, looking up at Bro looking at you through the flip lens. "Damn, right, forgot you're a total virgin," he chides. "Just touch it like you'd beat off or something." 

You frown at his comment, but start awkwardly handling the smuppet, making a fist around its nose and jerking it off. God this is stupid. Who could possibly get off to this shit? You're rubbing and massaging the squishy nose, staring at it then the camera, raising an eyebrow. The least enthused puppet masturbator ever.

Bro watches you do this for a few minutes in silence. Then, abruptly, he says, "Put it in your mouth." 

You blink. The nose... ? Fine, you'll give whatever freaks'll be watching this later a pseudo-blowjob. You open your mouth and put the tip of that fuzzy nose in, trying to suck at it like you've seen head given in porno. It keeps flopping around and you feel really dumb, but Bro's face looks sort of... awed as he stares down at that view. 

"Lick it," he commands again, his voice sounding a little lower. You pause, push your shades up and pull the plush dong out of your mouth. Tentatively, you give it some licks, feeling the fabric get soaked and and gross under your tongue. You suddenly aren't wondering who the hell would get off to this, because you're watching Bro adjusting his pants and it's pretty obvious that he likes what he sees. 

This has to be hitting some sort of weird kinky bingo. You, underage and in a cheerleader outfit and sucking off a toy as your brother gets off on it. Maybe you should be disgusted right now, but the way Bro's reacting... just the idea of you turning him on is arousing, all at once, feeling a spark of something hit your dick. You wince a little, feeling like you shouldn't be thinking like this.

Bro steps closer to your bed. "There we go. Yeah, give it some nice, long, slow licks. Put that tongue to use," he says, and you feel like you're more the focus than this stupid smuppet. The way Bro's talking to you is making you kind of horny, all low yet clearly in charge. You obey him, dragging your tongue around the tip, even biting it a little and tugging on it. Which you aren't sure is even attractive, but Bro suddenly comes much closer. 

He puts his knee up on your bed and leans over you. "Lay down and rub it down your chest," he demands, and again you do as he says without question. You're being a complete bitch right now but maybe you kind of like it. Maybe it's not that bad. This is nowhere near what you'd been planning on doing, but hey, if this is what it takes to get that game... 

You lie on your back and start trailing the smuppet down your chest, your stomach. But you pause right before your crotch - yeah, you're hard and you're kind of hella embarrassed about it. Without warning, Bro reaches out and grabs your wrist. He forces your hand down. Over yourself. "Do it," he murmurs, his voice husky, sounding like a completely different person. "C'mon. Touch yourself." 

You can feel your old enemy coming back, that hot flush of embarrassment over your cheeks and neck. This is shameful. It's wrong. And it's clearly passing the point of you simply wanting a new video game. But you do it. You rub the smuppet over your groin, unable to resist bucking your hips into your own hand. 

"Ditch the shirt, too," Bro reaches forward again and starts to tug your shirt up. "Show off them titties."

You huff, confused and slightly irritated yet aroused before you sit up and do as he says, pulling the shirt over your head. "I already told you I don't have tits," you shoot back, your voice sounding far more wavering than you'd planned. Bro's watching you. Intently. His eyes on the view, pointed down at you and clearly boning up. Your eyes flick to his crotch and yeah - there's that enviably huge bulge again. "You're so fuckin' cute," Bro mumbles, seemingly more to himself. That makes you look away, closing your eyes, trying to pretend he doesn't have a camera pointed at your cock as you tug at yourself, clumsy and unpracticed. 

Your brother must not find this sufficient because he reaches his hand down, his fingers tightening around your small erection, grip firm. You falter and make a noise. You just about shudder. Your brother is holding your dick and that alone feels _so good_ and yet you feel almost paralyzed, stunned that he's touching you like this. He's still got the cam on you but he's slowly starting to jerk you off, rough leather on your sensitive skin, up and down and you moan, unsure if it's from shock or pleasure or both. Either way, you don't want to get up.

He suddenly reaches up and tugs the skirt down, down around your skinny boy thighs. You watch your dick flop out and you watch how it disappears into Bro's hand. "Yeah," he says again, more of a whisper now. "This is how you do it."

Your thought process comes to a halt as he starts rubbing you faster, a sudden surge of intense pleasure that ends as quickly as it began. You've jolted up on your elbows, tensed as hell from his touch, another moan you couldn't swallow escaping your throat. "Like that," Bro says. "That's what I want you to do." His hand is gone.

You're a flushed mess as you lay back down, staring up at him, feeling slightly bewildered. You can't help but ask in a half whisper - "Is this fucked up?"

Bro takes his eyes off the view. He looks straight down at you.

"Does it feel good?"

You go still. You contemplate lying. And even though you might not know what to think, you're hard, and that quick touch from Bro already has you ready to burst. _Of course it fucking feels good._

"... Yeah."

"Then quit worryin' about it."

You bite your lip and reach your hand down to touch yourself, to try to stroke yourself to orgasm when you notice that the camera's been lowered. It's not even on you anymore, it's just Bro watching you, his eyes on your squirming body, panting and trying desperately to hold back your moans. Just him, staring down at you as you touch yourself. And considering he hasn't got the camera pointed your way, you're not sure why you're continuing to do it.

This is past a joke. He's getting off on _you_ , and you don't even have girly clothes on. Seeing this makes you whimper a bit, your body twisting at the realization, and before you can really stop yourself you come instantly. Your hips jerk, your back arches and your toes curl, watching yourself spurt all over your stomach. Unable to hold back a final moan, you shut your eyes again, too embarrassed by your lack of endurance to look at Bro anymore.

There is a pause and the only sound in the room is you panting for some seconds. The noise of movement makes you blink your eyes back open, glancing at Bro. He's turning off the camera, snapping it closed, backing toward your door. He's leaving. "Hey--" you speak up, trying to get him to stop, but he completely ignores you. 

You stew in your own pleasure a bit, taking a deep breath. Your heart's pounding and it's not just from blowing your load. No-- you want to do it. You want to confront Bro right the fuck now and figure out how he really feels. Not that the latter part is guaranteed, given your bro's tendency toward caginess, but fuck if you can take this much longer.

You get up. And you pursue him, pulling your skirt up to at least cover your cock. You don't even bother cleaning yourself up, simply hurrying after Bro. 

What you see out in the living room sure is a sight.

It's Bro, but not just Bro - his _cock_. It's hard and looks even bigger than you imagined, thick and alive with its own pulse as it lies against his lower stomach. You just sort of gawk, your eyes traveling from bright blonde pubes to this gigantic length of flesh your brother somehow manages to haul around in his pants every day. 

He's stroking himself on the futon, and when you come out he looks at you. He doesn't even pause. You were thinking about asking him what the fuck's going on. You wanted to demand how he felt about you, if this was all a game - you just wanted answers. But when you see him like that, touching himself like how you just were, you're suddenly wanting to see him get off.

You want to make him get off like he's made you get off. Without explanation, without any sort of indication toward his thoughts. Pure pleasure, unquestioned and raw and maybe dirty and depraved, but _wanted._

Hesitantly you walk out, trying to look confident and unafraid as you approach him. You sit on the futon next to him and simply stare, watch his hand travel up and down, skin and veins sliding smoothly. He's so goddamn big, so much bigger than you and you feel almost inadequate as you stare like you're in some kind of trance. Your brother's dick - you're finally seeing it.

You break your gaze and look up at him. He's looking right at you like he's reading your mind.

"You wanna touch it?"

Taking that as an invitation, you don't even nod, you just reach out. Bro moves his hand and lets you jerk him off. Or, well, try to. It feels oversized in your smaller hand, too big to even imagine being your own. There's a drop of something clear on the tip of his cock and you think it's cum at first, then remember that sometimes you have that stuff too. Just not all the time. You reach a finger up to poke at it, spreading it down the underside of his hard-on.

Bro makes an appreciative noise and it sort of turns you on. You just came, but you feel like you're already on the way to boner city again - you kind of hope not. You're wanting to just do to Bro what he's done to you, be cool and get him off then leave. It'd be embarrassing if you got hard all over again.

"You can lick it 'f you want," Bro says, and he sounds different. You've only hear his voice get like that when he's drunk or sleepy but he's all here, all focused on you. "'member that shitty Fiddy Cent song? Take his cue." 

"Which one, there's a lot," you murmur back, even though you can make a pretty good guess as to which one he's talking about. The extra-stupid one about lollipops. But Bro's reaching down to touch himself, his fingertips lightly trailing over his cock and the sight is far more erotic than it should be. This is fucked up. You're fucked up. Why is it turning you on so much? 

You're honestly a little scared to suck this thing. It's big and intimidating and you have no idea how to really give a blowjob in the first place. Like, you've seen it done in porn and shit but you haven't exactly practiced. But you're not about to look like a punk in front of Bro, so you push his fingers away and try to grab the length again yourself.

Trying not to hesitate too much, you open your mouth and lean forward, taking in the head. It's-- taking up more space in your mouth than you thought it would and you're wondering how the hell you're gonna pull off a for-real blowjob. You try sucking at it, first gentle then a little harder, looking up at Bro to see his reaction. He's just sort of staring at you, lips parted like he might be about to say something. But he's silent. You feel awkward and mostly unsexy as you keep sucking. Bro can't possibly be enjoying this. His dick's still hard, though, and you think you even feel it move a little, the slightest twitch in your mouth. It's... definitely keeping _you_ excited. You're pleasing him. He likes this. It's kind of validation even if it's totally fucked up. 

You're concentrating on your best impression of a vacuum when you feel a hand on the side of your head, sifting through your hair. You pull back and look up at him again, questioning, until you realize that was probably encouragement. God you're dumb. Indeed, Bro's biting his lip briefly before he mumbles out a heavy - "Don't stop, baby." He called you baby. Like you're in a fucking porno. Like you're his little bitch, and somehow, it doesn't bother you much.

You pop his dick out of your mouth and try licking him now because your jaw already hurts a little, not having been open that wide in... ever. You try tonguing from the base of the shaft to the head all slowly, paying extra attention to the tip. You didn't think sucking cock would be this much work.

"Mm. Good girl," you can hear him rumble, and it ignites your blush again. "Don't call me that," you mutter back, as if hoping to retain some dignity.

"Good boy, then," he replies with a tug to your hair, and you try to pull away. You hock and spit on his hard cock in a gesture that's meant to be standoffish and defiant, but he seems to like it, his dick giving one particularly noticeable jump as your thick saliva trails down like some kinda ghost slug. 

Lightning-fast and catching you offguard with suddenness, Bro sits up and grabs you under the arms. Tugs you right up into his lap. You blink, unsure what to do - jumping a little as he smacks your ass. Hard. You move forward, your hands grabbing tightly at his shirt. 

"Get down on that shit," he breathes, pushing your ass down onto his dick. It presses up under your skirt, hot and wet and hard as a rock sliding against your thigh. Your ass - the idea of actually fucking him makes you shudder. "Dude--" you whimper as he bucks his hips up, his cock gliding against your hot skin, hands grabbing both cheeks and squeezing like he's testing one of his smuppets' plushness. 

"What?" he questions, seeming unconcerned with the answer. Which you don't have. You don't know what the fuck you want anymore, your own dick hard but confused, tenting up your little skirt as Bro ruts up against you like you're some kind of fuck toy. Jesus christ, you're already boned up again.

And still apparently pretty sensitive, because when Bro grabs your dick, when you feel that rough leather against your skin again, it cuts off any potential response. You just moan, your breath hitches and you fall against his chest. You bury your face into the crook of his neck as he presses his dick against yours, holding both together. It's warm and he smells good and masculine and weirdly comforting and you sort of nuzzle into him, rocking your hips into his hand without any rhythm. Just unpracticed wanting. He's rubbing your cocks together in this slow and pressured way that makes you writhe uncontrollably, the stimulation almost painful but too good to stop. 

Bro keeps doing that for a few seconds, picking up the pace briefly before he lets go and just pushes your ass down, his dick sliding wet against yours. He's dripping all this precum and it's slicking between the both of you and Jesus you're fucking embarrassed at how horny you are, how Bro stops guiding you because you're grinding against him like you've never jerked off a day in your life or something.

"Sure are diggin' this, aren't you," Bro says lowly, the smirk obvious in his voice as you pant and raise a fist to punch half-heartedly at his chest. That's all you give him, far more concerned with moving with him, frotting hard and desperate against him. His cock is so much bigger than yours, so much easier to grind against like you've got not shame in the world, and at this point it's hard to feel any.

He shuts up and it goes on like that for mere minutes, maybe not even two before you're feeling a tingling in your toes, those weird ripples shivering up your legs and signalling an oncoming orgasm. You try to avoid it, try to stop because Bro's breathing heavy but he's probably not nearly as close as you, and coming first would definitely be some kind of topping on this humiliating cake. You try to sit up but Bro wraps his arms around you and keeps you in place. 

You're protesting again, feeling sweat drip down your forehead, your chest - a dazed sort of "Bro, stop--" when he sort of rolls his hips against you in this horribly obscene way. You just can't hold back. You're a weak dam and he's a tidal wave of experience. You come hard, an unrestrained groan forced from your throat as your body tenses up, your toes curl and you feel hot stickiness spread over your lower belly again as you collapse down on Bro's body. 

You're god damn exhausted. You feel filthy and in desperate need of a shower but Bro still hasn't came. And holy fuck, at this point, you feel like you deserve to see him do it. With a noise of frustration you push yourself back up and grind down onto him, panting in his ear, whining a bit from the exertion, the little aftershocks you give yourself and your poor overstimulated cock.

"C'mon," you mutter, trying his own tactics against him. You nip at his earlobe. And it works.

With more of a grunt than an actual moan, you feel your brother's strong frame go tense under yours, a miniature spasm as he lets loose. You feel him shoot up on your stomach and it reaches all the way to your chest, thick hot globs that make you feel accomplished.

You made him come. Fucking bastard, you finally called him out on his bullshit "game".

"... Nailed it," you whisper.

And it makes Bro laugh. Not a laugh like anyone else might consider a laugh. But as much of a laugh as he'll ever give, a sort of "heh" with a smirk before he's shoving you away. Off of him.

You stand up, your front coated in cum and so is he, the liquid shining in the glow of the TV. There's silence. You feel like curling up and going to sleep, so you just fall back down, flopping onto the couch near Bro. Not on him. You're giving him some space and he doesn't move, doesn't try to pull you closer.

The two of you watch the screen and don't say anything for a long time. What the fuck is there to say? After minutes, you glance over at Bro, staring at the TV just like you. Was this his plan all along? Has he been wanting to fuck you for some indeterminable amount of time? Has he thought about you in lewd, immoral kinds of ways just like you have before the whole "dare" was a thing?

You think about questioning him. Part of you wants to know. But part of you thinks you'll never get a straight answer, and that doesn't really bother you.

Maybe there doesn't need to be an explanation.

After letting your gaze sit for a couple more seconds, you get up. "Gonna shower," you state casually, as if you haven't just basically had sex with your brother. "Sure," Bro says, and his voice is easy.

You shower. You go to your room. You fuck around on the computer for a bit and then you go to bed. You sleep like an absolute baby and when you wake up the next morning, everything's just the way it was. Swept under the rug and no new presents.

A month passes and nothing significant happens. You've started to throw the clothes away. The girly clothes, the stupid shit you never really had the intention of wearing again. Bro hasn't mentioned the dare since that night and your life's gone back to being incredibly average again. Truly, it's like nothing's ever happened, and you don't really mind that, either.

But you've kept the black stockings. Sometimes you put them on, still. Sometimes you think about what you and Bro did - you think about how good it felt, and when you've got the stockings on and get yourself off it's as vivid as it was that night. It's your dirtiest little secret, one shared between you and him that nobody will ever know. 

Tonight, you're slipping them on. You're pulling the sleek material up your pale legs, watching them just almost reach your briefs. It's probably fucked up. Actually, you know it is. This isn't something normal brothers do. That's cool, because you've gotten past the point of questioning yourself anymore.

You amble out into the living room, lean against the wall and look over at Bro. He glances at you instantly, and you can see the surprise on his face, mild as it is. You love that - there's something intensely satisfying about catching him off-guard.

"Hey," you say, licking your lips, trying to look sexy as you tug gently at the tops of your stockings. Bro's eyes trail over your body, and you can already feel yourself getting excited. He hasn't touched you at all since, and you'll be honest with yourself - you've been craving his touch. For as much as you resisted before, having crossed the threshold, now - you've finally come to terms with how much you really want it. Maybe that was Bro's plan all along. Maybe you spent all that time fucking around because the both of you were equally afraid of acknowledging some sick tension. Some sick desire, inexplicable yet undeniable, a hot undercurrent you've stopped feeling shameful about.

His face gains that infuriating little smirk. He leans back into the couch, his arms draped across the back, his legs spreading ever so slightly as he looks at you.

It shouldn't turn you on. It shouldn't turn you on, it shouldn't turn you on, it shouldn't turn you on--

"... 'Sup, lil' man."

You walk toward him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19k words of self-indulgent PWP holy shit
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.


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